


Space Hamster-Thing Love

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Animal Transformation, M/M, Mating, Mild Alternate Universe, WTF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 12:30:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1018635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hikaru gets a pet Chekov with unexpected consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Space Hamster-Thing Love

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Reading about Worf and his hamster in a TNG novel and then Sulu’s love of alien animals in the first TOS novel put this in my head somehow.... Also, now I've [drawn it.](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/65946574019/ask-and-ye-may-receive)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Hikaru comes back with half a dozen other officers, all with little to report that the first landing party wouldn’t already have. The boxes they secured are beamed up after them and hefted to the docking bay by stronger crew, mostly red shirts. Hikaru reports directly to the captain as he walks his way back to his quarters, tired and mostly satisfied. 

“Everything went as planned, Sir,” he tells his communicator, and he doesn’t bother to relay the name of each individual item brought aboard—the manifest will already be in Commander Spock’s console. Hikaru’s shift is now over, but he politely waits for a reply lest he’s needed for longer. 

_“Good job, Lieutenant,”_ Captain Kirk responds, sounding chipper as usual. _“I knew you’d earn your present.”_

Hikaru stops down the hall from his destination, blinking down at his communicator. “My present, Sir?” It’s not his birthday, and he doubts every crewmember gets presents directly from the captain anyway, even if Hikaru is a bridge officer. 

_“You heard me,”_ Kirk laughs. _“I found something during my trip to the surface that I think would be perfect for you, and you always like anything with alien biology.”_ If that means exotic plants, it’s true, and Hikaru strains his memory for all the interesting fauna he saw on Mrennenimus IV. _“Besides, after that upgrade you gave our Klingon computer simulation, it’s the least I can do.”_ Hikaru flushes—he played with the training program out of a sense of general space-boredom, not to get a present. 

But he’s not about to reject it when he hasn’t even seen it yet. Getting in good with the captain is nothing to scoff at. (Apparently, they’re already good. He thought as much, the way they chat on the bridge in between boring non-missions, but not present-worthy good.) He mutters a weak, “Thank you, Captain,” and starts walking again. “Where is it?”

 _“Your quarters. I hope you don’t mind; I had Spock override your lock and drop it off there. You can let me know how it suits you or if there are any problems, though the locals assured me it’s perfectly safe.”_ Even if it isn’t, Hikaru could probably handle... whatever it is. He does well with security. 

He repeats a thank you, and he closes his communicator. His doors open automatically for him, the lights already on. He kicks his shoes off while the doors slide shut again, and his eyes roam the single room (it’s unlikely Spock will have left him a present in the adjacent bathroom) though he catches what it is easily. While Hikaru’s quarters are tangled with the mess of his plant and weapon collections, he knows each item in it like the back of his hand. The new addition sticks out like a sore thumb. 

Hikaru walks over to his desk and kneels down to put his face at level with the clear container, about the size of a square fishbowl. The top is open, and the bottom is adorned with something similar to grass, though golden. 

Sitting on the ‘grass’ is a little lump of fur, and at first, Hikaru thinks he’s been given a tribble. He stares at it for a few seconds, wondering how exactly a tribble is ‘perfect’ for him. It’s a honeyed sort of brown colour, with tight little curls, round and utterly adorable but otherwise seemingly useless. He considers tapping the glass to see if it moves. 

He doesn’t need to. It unfurls on its own, making a sweet cooing noise, and it unfolds into something between a hamster and a squirrel but more compact and round. Its big, beady black eyes blink up at him, its tiny ears twitching. It doesn’t seem to have a mouth, or at least not one he can see through all the fur. 

He reaches one hand down into the cage and fishes his communicator back out of his pocket with the other. The not-quite-tribble observes his outstretched hand before nuzzling into him. It’s not much bigger than his palm, so Hikaru has to be careful when he starts to pet it. 

“Captain?”

_“Found it?”_

Hikaru has a few questions, most centralizing around _why,_ but instead he asks, “...What is it?”

_“It’s called a ‘Chekov,’ apparently. They’re good luck, and more importantly, the Mrennenimian King assured me they’re the perfect mates.”_

“Mates?” Hikaru meant to laugh, but instead his voice comes out bemused. The Chekov is still cuddling with his hand, and Hikaru absently bats it over, just playfully. It rolls onto its back, tiny feet emerging, and then it uses its fluffy tail to roll itself back over and wander back to Hikaru’s hand.

 _“That’s the word they used, or at least how the Universal Translator told it, but I guess they mean like a pet—the ideal company. ...Especially for someone stuck out in space on a five year mission.”_ The captain doesn’t say it, but Hikaru’s sure he’s leaving off the ‘it’s better than a plant’ part. 

He’s not sure how he feels about that. 

He is lonely, yes. But not everyone can have a Spock, and it’s irksome to know that his captain noticed as much. 

Hikaru still says, “Thanks.”

 _“Don’t mention it. Kirk out.”_ The transmission dies. Hikaru puts his communicator on the desk.

He picks the Chekov up in his hand, ready to steady it should it roll out, but it stays in his palm, warm and perfectly well behaved. It sounds like it’s still purring, its curls gently swaying with its breath. Hikaru holds it up to his face and sighs, wondering vaguely what he’s going to do with such a thing. Until a few minutes ago, he didn’t even know what a Chekov was. There are no guidebooks or instructions around, and it’s unlikely Kirk, who’s never known for his forward thinking, will know what to do here. Chekovs won’t be in the computer banks—this was first contact with the planet.

“I guess I’ll need a name first,” he muses. The Chekov hums, and, smiling, Hikaru corrects, “For you. My name’s Hikaru Sulu.” It makes a quiet trilling noise as though to confirm. 

As the Chekov seems perfectly stable in his palm, Hikaru walks over to his Synthesizer while he thinks, needing a snack before bed. And a shower. Or a bath. He settles on the pasta dish already loaded in the Synthesizer and wonders vaguely what Chekovs eat and even more so what to name it. 

He puts the Chekov down on the countertop next to his Rigelian begonias and takes out his plate of spaghetti. “Pavel,” he decides, for no particular reason. He might’ve read a book when he was younger about a prince named Pavel who tamed a dragon with cuteness. He looks back at the Chekov, repeating, “I’ll call you Pavel.”

Pavel isn’t paying attention, or at least doesn’t seem to be. His tail’s to Hikaru and he’s chewing on one of the pink-and-blue flowers draped over the pot. Hikaru’s still for a few seconds, wondering if he should yank Pavel away—there’s no telling what plants are poisonous to Chekovs. 

But Pavel doesn’t seem to be poisoned. He manages to tear away the petal he’s been working on (Hikaru’s somehow decided along the way that he’s a he, despite no evidence either way, perhaps because ‘Pavel’ feels more like a boy’s name) and turns back to face Hikaru, innocent eyes wide. 

Hikaru can’t help a goofy smile, and he picks up Pavel in his free hand, slinking down the wall rather than heading to sit at his desk or on the bed. The floor’s carpeted, so it isn’t that uncomfortable. There’re more flowers in this corner. He brings his knees up and holds his plate on them, depositing Pavel in his lap. Pavel sits obediently still and nibbles away while Hikaru starts to twist noodles around his fork. 

Maybe Kirk was right; though still seemingly useless, Chekovs are pretty cute—not an all-together bad companion. “At least it’s someone to talk to,” Hikaru remarks, and then he chuckles at his own ridiculousness; Pavel’s not much different from a rock in that regard. But at least Pavel perks up to look at him when he talks, as though in understanding. 

Hikaru puts his fork back on the plate after he’s shoveled a healthy helping into his mouth, petting Pavel between the ears. He’s growing fond of the little fur-ball quickly: no doubt a unique trait of its species. A pet that makes you love it. It might be fun to get one for Spock. 

Pavel finishes the single petal before Hikaru finishes his dinner, so he reaches sideways and plucks a sunflower petal free—something from home. This petal’s a lot bigger than the last one, longer than Pavel’s whole tail. But Pavel happily sets in on it, and it slowly disappears into what must be a tiny mouth covered by all the curls. Pavel makes the same happy trilling noise he did earlier; he seems to radiate nothing but contentedness. Pavel doesn’t exactly fit into Hikaru’s vast weapons collection (mostly swords from various cultures and an array of hand-held gun-like objects, all unloaded) but he’s not too far removed from some of the more beautiful plants. Kirk was right; Hikaru enjoys alien biology in all facets. While he chews, he daydreams absently about opening his own zoo of strange creatures back on Earth, or at least getting a small exhibit in an existing zoo comprised entirely of his donations. 

Not that he’d donate Pavel, of course. He’d have to breed Pavel with another Chekov and donate the babies. But then, he’s not sure Pavel would want its babies given away. Or that Pavel can have babies. And he’s not even sure Pavel would want a mate—isn’t Hikaru supposed to be that? Hikaru snorts to himself, and Pavel looks up at him. 

Hikaru finishes the rest of his plate before Pavel finishes his flower, and then Hikaru shoves his dishes onto the counter and watches Pavel munch down the rest. There’s no way of telling how much he should eat, but Hikaru supposes he won’t provide another unless Pavel seems restless. Do Chekovs require water? For a second, Hikaru pictures watering Pavel like one of his plants, and then he snorts again—that’s probably not a good idea. ...But the cage didn’t come with any bowls. Maybe he’ll scoop up a tiny bit of water onto a tea plate later and see how Pavel takes to it. ...He should probably stop by sickbay sometime and see if Dr. McCoy can make heads or tails of the fuzzy little creature...

It’s been a long day, and Hikaru was going to retire early. But now he finds himself playing with his new pet for at least another hour, petting it and pushing it over and watching it roll about in his lap. He wonders if it can play fetch, but even without much to really do, the companionship is nice. They’ve all been stuck in this ship for a long, long time. 

Eventually, Hikaru concedes to himself that he needs that shower. He thinks he’ll opt for a bath, though—Pavel’s quivering squeals of delight have put him in a relaxed mood. He picks Pavel up and carries Pavel back to his cage, dropping him gently down onto the pseudo-grass. Pavel rolls over and looks up at Hikaru, seeming to smile. For a brief moment, Hikaru doesn’t want to leave him. 

But that’s silly, and, he tells himself, Pavel will like him more if he smells less. So he makes his way to his bathroom, stripping on the way. His quarters aren’t exactly a wreck, but they’re certainly not as clean as they could be either. 

He’s down to his boxers by the time he’s beside the tub, pouring water into the white square-ish base. He puts it somewhere near scalding, pulls out of his boxers, kicks them aside and examines himself in the mirror behind him—should he shave? He tilts his chin from side to side, determining he’s probably safe for another day. Then he glances back at the rapidly filling water and wonders how he’s going to bathe Pavel. He’ll probably have to eventually, but Pavel seems like the sort of thing to drown easily. He wouldn’t quite fit in a teacup. A bowl, maybe? How warm would he want the water? Hikaru has half a mind to request another trip down to the surface before they set off—there’s a whole multitude of rituals surrounding different pets that he has absolutely no idea about. 

He contents himself by figuring a pet could hardly be considered the ideal mate if it died easier than a housefly. And Hikaru’s always been good with his things. He likes to take care of all his possessions, and he’s kind to everyone he cares about. He’ll just have to do his best. He puts a foot in the water, turns off the tap, and sinks in. He’s already imagining getting out again and setting to more weapon-simulation specs on a PADD; he could put Pavel in his lap and play with the cute creature with one hand whilst proving to Kirk just how much he deserves his gift with the other. 

Hikaru’s smiling like an idiot before he knows it. He doesn’t bother soaking his hair—he’ll wash it tomorrow. The water’s a murky sort of white with the mix of soap automatically dispensed, and the air is beginning to cloud with steam. The mirror will fog up soon, though Hikaru left his door open. No need to close it in locked corners. It’s only open a sliver. Hikaru’s slinking down to rest the back of his head against the brim, relaxing. 

It opens all the way, and Hikaru bolts back up, staring at the door and wishing he had his phaser on him. A tentative head peaks around the doorway, and despite the intrusion, it’s nowhere near threatening. 

It’s a human. Or at least, it looks like a human. Peach skin, rosy cheeks, no unusual ridges or scales. Thick, brown curls and bright hazel eyes, and a sheepish smile. It’s a boy, no older than Hikaru. Maybe a year or two younger. His shoulders peek out from behind the door, and he takes a hesitant step into the bathroom, and Hikaru goes immediately red. The boy’s lithe, pretty, and utterly naked. There’s a dreamy, energetic sort of look on his face.

It takes Hikaru a second to ask a disgruntled, “Who are you?”

The boy opens his mouth, then closes it. He looks cutely up at the ceiling, seems to think for a second, then looks back at Hikaru and tilts his head. He says in a garbled sort of way, “Pavel.”

Hikaru’s brows might’ve risen so high they’re now off his head. Maybe his jaw will hit the floor and he’ll unravel with surprise. The boy before him simply blinks and continues smiling, looking the perfect picture of innocence. 

When it becomes apparent that Hikaru’s lost the ability to speak, Pavel takes another step forward. He lifts one leg up and dips his toes in the water, shivers all over, and then moves to stand inside. He shuffles awkwardly down to sit, like a doe that hasn’t got the hang of walking yet. Then he seems to settle in, making a familiar trilling noise and watching Hikaru. 

“How’d you get in here?” Hikaru mumbles.

Pavel shuffles closer, the water rippling around him, covering half his chest and not quite his small, pink nipples. Pavel leans in, and Hikaru doesn’t lean back in time, and Pavel nuzzles into the side of his neck, humming. 

Hikaru shoves him away with too much force—Pavel stumbles back. He looks up at Hikaru with hurt all over his pretty face and asks in a thick accent, maybe something Earth-European, “Does zis shape not pleasure you, master?” Then Pavel’s hands dart to his face, and he continues woefully, “I hawe already committed to it. Oh, I am sorry—I should hawe asked what you like.”

“Your... your shape?” Hikaru repeats numbly. He feels like an idiot—like he’s missing something obvious.

“Yes,” the boy says, nodding. It takes a second, and Hikaru pinpoints his accent—Russian. An odd choice. “I tried to make it familiar, zhough I zhought from your rooms zhat you would like somezhing a touch foreign. But I am not familiar wizh your species. If you do not like me, I can... I can...” He looks aside, brows knit together. Then he looks back and insists, “Surgery? Cosmetic surgery is awailable on Mrennenimus IV—perhaps it is also awailable on your wessel?”

Hikaru’s face might be burning up, only half from the conversation, the rest from being in a bath with a very naked, very gorgeous Russian kid. “Don’t get surgery on my behalf!”

“But I want to please you,” Pavel insists. “I... I assumed you would want a mate—zhat is what my species are for...” Looking downcast and into the soapy water, Pavel adds forlornly, “And I’d been so happy, too—you seemed like such a wonderful master, feeding me and petting me...”

That description solidifies things; it’s exactly what Hikaru did with... with Pavel. Hikaru’s half compelled to shoot out of the bath and race to the other room to examine the probably-empty cage. “You’re... you’re a shapeshifter?” he mumbles blankly. “You change your shape to suit your... your _master_?” The word feels strange on his tongue—nothing he’d ever label himself as. 

But Pavel nods. There must be something in Hikaru’s face that shows how unbelievable he finds it, because Pavel tilts his head and asks, “You are on a starship... surely you hawe seen stranger zhings...?” 

Yes. Of course. He’s seen a Gorn mating dance and read about Klingon weddings and seen entirely gaseous species. ...But he’s never seen a space hamster turn into a sexy human, and that feels... radically too good to be true. 

“But anyway, I am not a shapeshifter. I hawe set my second form to please you; I will shift back and forzh between zhem to suit you, master. ...Ah, if you find me acceptable.” Pavel’s shoulders hunch, evidently thinking he won’t pass that test. 

“You speak perfect Federation Standard,” Hikaru says dumbly. Well, almost perfect, but the accent’s sort of... cute. 

Pavel smiles weakly. “Zhank you, master.”

He still seems to be waiting. Somehow, years of being in space and witnessing endless insanity didn’t quite prepare him for this. 

It takes Hikaru a few minutes to summon the wherewithal to say, “Uh... I find you acceptable. ...More than acceptable.” 

Pavel’s expression instantly twists into one of sheer joy, and he lunges forward, arms darting out of the water and splashing Hikaru while they throw around him. He leans entirely on Hikaru’s body, and Hikaru can feel Pavel’s thighs brushing his own folded legs. He can feel Pavel’s limp cock brush his stomach, and his own cock isn’t nearly so flaccid beneath that. He can’t help it. Even if nothing’s happened, he’s in the bath with something completely delectable. He doesn’t know what to do, so he’s uselessly still while Pavel nuzzles into him again, purring. 

They’ve effectively just met, and Pavel’s insanely affectionate. Hikaru, in something of a trance, lifts a hand to absently stroke through Pavel’s curls. Given Pavel’s delighted reaction, it does feel strangely like petting a pet, and it’s disturbing how much that turns Hikaru on. 

Or maybe it’s the fact that Pavel’s kissed his cheek. Just light at first, but when Hikaru turns to look at him, Pavel kisses him on the lips. Hikaru, startled, pulls a centimeter back. Pavel bites his lower lip, blushing lightly. 

“I am sorry,” he mumbles, pink-cheeked but not moving. “I don’t... I don’t fully know how to... how to express my lowe for you. How your species pleases one anozher.” His eyes dart up, and he asks with a sensual little whine, “Will you show me?”

Hikaru still can’t believe this is happening to him. Pavel smells sweet and like the flowers he ingested earlier. A beautiful being, meant just to please him and living on flowers. It seems... ridiculous. Even for space. 

But Hikaru still feels inclined to point out; “How can you love me? You just met me.”

Pavel’s laugh is really more of a giggle, light and lilting. “Because zhat’s what I am, silly. I am a Chekov. We are mate-pets.” Then he leans in to add in a conspiratorial whisper, “But I am glad you are zhe one to hawe me, master. ...Ewen knowing what I am for, I newer imagined zhat I would bond so quickly wizh zhe one to hawe me. When zhat first man at zhe bazaar bought me, I felt nozhing for him. ...But zhen I realized I was a gift for you, and when I cuddled wizh your hand I knew I could be happy wizh you... if... if you will hawe me.” He leans his head on Hikaru’s shoulder, looking up in nothing short of utter adoration.

Then he shifts up for another kiss, and this time, it’s harder to resist. Pavel goes slow, his mouth still closed, but the way he pushes his body into Hikaru’s confirms everything he’s saying—this boy, this man, this... _creature_... wants him. Hikaru awkwardly reaches up to hold onto Pavel’s sides, and he finds the creamy skin oddly familiar under his fingers, not that far from curled fur. Pavel’s smooth and light and easy to pull further into his lap. He doesn’t even mean to, but he does it, instinct wanting to suck something so pretty in. Pavel mewls happily against his lips, and Hikaru pulls back, staring into shining, hazel eyes. 

The universe is a strange, dazzling place. Its treasures never cease to amaze, and Hikaru knows that these things—the ever-going bought of discovery and the boy in his lap—are the reason he joined Starfleet in the first place. 

It’s always hard to resist alien biology. 

“I will go back when you are done wizh me,” Pavel promises quietly. “I will be a small, discreet pet, and I will sleep happily when you are away at work, and you can play wizh me when you get back—” He smiles; clearly that part is more for him than Hikaru; perhaps attention is his true nutrient. “—And zhen I will be zhis and I can lie in your arms and please you, and you can teach me your pleasure, and we can—” But what they can do, Pavel doesn’t get to finish. 

Hikaru’s kissing him, not so much because he’s convinced as because Pavel’s started rocking in his lap and the urge has grown impossible to ignore. 

He has the best captain ever. 

The next time they part, Pavel asks happily, “To your approwal, then?”

Actually, Pavel looks like something built just for Hikaru. All the things that Hikaru finds attractive, magically melded into one being. Pavel’s small, fragile, but still lightly toned in his way, and his angular, Slavic face is the epitome of a unique kind of beauty. His curls are adorable, framing his face perfectly and giving him an extra air of innocence that makes him completely irresistible. Hikaru can’t help but admit, “It’s like you’re right out of my wet dreams.”

Either Mrennenimus IV has a similar metaphor, or Pavel’s just as intoned to Hikaru as he claims. He beams with the praise. 

“I will need you to show me how,” he repeats. Hikaru nods. 

He feels like some prince out of a clichéd fairy tale, except those don’t usually end in tub sex. Hikaru licks his lips and nods harder. He can do that. With his cock this hard, trapped between their two stomachs, it’s hard to think of anything else. Pavel’s thighs are tight around his sides, knees up and brushing the back of the tub, Pavel’s round ass cushioned on his legs. Pavel’s crotch is pressed tightly into Hikaru’s, body arching away just enough for them to look at each other. 

Hikaru mumbles, staring at Pavel’s plush lips, “Open your mouth.”

Pavel obeys instantly. Hikaru smirks and leans in to kiss him again, this time with tongue. He licks along Pavel’s bottom lip and thrusts his inside, finding Pavel garden-fresh and almost saccharine. Pavel makes a keening noise and rocks his hips forward again. His little tongue stays in his mouth, and Hikaru nudges it in between tracing teeth and the roof of Pavel’s mouth. It’s obvious that Pavel doesn’t know what he’s doing, but that doesn’t make him any less good. He intuitively follows Hikaru’s lead, like a dance. Hikaru’s arms begin to wrap around Pavel’s back, and Pavel’s rocking slowly becomes more even, steadier, then harder, over and over in a full pace. Each time Pavel’s cock, now quite as hard as Hikaru’s, grinds into him, Hikaru goes a little bit wilder with need. 

Hikaru only pulls their lips apart because Pavel starts to pant through his nose, clearly needing air. Separated, he murmurs against Hikaru’s cheek in a sharp whine, “I am ready for you, master. My body knows what you need, and I want you...”

“Want you too,” Hikaru grunts, because who wouldn’t? He’s sure when his head comes back down he’ll think himself crazy, fucking someone within a dozen minutes of meeting them. But that someone is _naked_ in his bathtub and so _eager_ and grinding into him so good. It’s all Hikaru can do to not just toss Pavel over the side and fuck him into the bathroom floor. 

Hikaru’s not a stranger to anal. He knows how it works. He’s not about to hurt anyone, especially not this someone, someone who claims to be his. He’ll have to be slow, careful, even though the desire in him is somehow the greatest he’s ever felt. His fingers are nearly trembling as he runs his hand down Pavel’s round ass, slipping between firm cheeks. He shivers in delight and kisses Pavel again—what a great ass. He’s too lucky. He squeezes one cheek because he can, Pavel mewls happily, and Hikaru squeezes the other. He kneads them a few times, and Pavel breaks the kiss to nuzzle into Hikaru’s neck and whimper, “Take me, Hikaru Sulu, take me...”

“You know my name?” Hikaru mutters dumbly, still copping a feel. Pavel nods into him, and it takes him a second to realize that he said it, back when he first picked Pavel, a small ball of fur, up. “You can... you can just call me Hikaru...”

“ _Hi-karuuu_ ,” Pavel croons. Hikaru’s eyes close for a second—that’s impossibly hot. Pavel speaks his name like a prayer, soaked in so much adoration. He thrusts up to meet one of Pavel’s thrusts, and their cocks slide together, slicked in the water. Hikaru’s going to come early. 

It takes a considerable amount of willpower to stop playing with Pavel’s ass, but he knows it’ll be better inside. He wants to be inside Pavel so desperately. Isn’t that what Pavel’s for? His own personal mate. The fact that it sounds so wrong somehow just makes him want it more; he’s never been that much of a rule-breaker, but this is something forbidden, something tantalizing. Pavel nips and kisses his way down Hikaru’s jaw line. Hikaru runs his middle finger down Pavel’s crack, blunt fingertip searching. 

When he finds Pavel’s hole, he taps it, rubbing it and milking it for every last delicious little sound. Pavel jerks in Hikaru’s grasp and makes a high-pitched mewl, arms tightening around Pavel’s shoulders. It feels so small, tiny and puckered. If Pavel’s just for him, then... “You haven’t had anyone else before?”

“Newer.” Pavel shakes his head. “I am yours, always...” Why doesn’t that scare him? Mated for life after only a few hours. Hikaru should be running for the hills. But right now, that sounds just right. 

He pushes his finger inside, and it goes surprisingly easy. Pavel’s body opens right up: truly ready for him. Pavel’s channel is tight and hot but moist, sucking Hikaru’s finger up, and he grinds himself down against Hikaru’s knuckle. Hikaru groans and forces himself to pull free—he doesn’t even need to do any stretching. Something’s already wrong in a very right way—Pavel’s perfectly ready for him. Pavel told him as much. Pavel asks suddenly, “What do you do?”

“Do?” Hikaru can’t think straight. His arms untangle so he can get a better grasp on Pavel’s thin hips, lifting them up. The tip of Pavel’s pink cock peeks out of the water, and Hikaru holds him in place. He looks up at Pavel’s face, curious and blushing, with half-lidded eyes and parted lips. “Oh, uh... I’m a helmsmen. I pilot the ship...”

Pavel’s eyes turn alight, and he purrs through his grin, “Zhat is _amazing._ ” 

Of course. Questions. They should... should get to know each other more. Asks things, trade information, even if it’s too late to go back. But not right now. Pavel seems to understand. He says, “I’m ready.” Hikaru nods. He is, too. 

He pulls Pavel down onto him, suddenly and with a hunger and force he didn’t even realize he had. Pavel screams immediately, but it isn’t full of pain—Hikaru tries to pull him back off and Pavel clenches down, helping sink down, shaking his head and murmuring, “Yes, yes! Oh, _yes_!” He sounds desperate already. It turns Hikaru on even more. 

Hikaru’s already impossibly hard, thick, long enough to take a good while for Pavel to get all the way on. Centimeter by centimeter disappears inside Pavel’s warm ass, and Pavel persists in taking it. Even though he doesn’t seem to hurt, even though it’s stretched and it’s wet, it’s so, so _tight._ The squeeze is exquisite, all around Hikaru with a vice like grip. Only when Pavel’s ass cheeks are squished against Hikaru’s thighs, as full as he can get, does Hikaru mumble, “You okay?”

Pavel makes a broken sort of moaning noise, then tries to say, “Da... yes... yes, you are so good inside me...” Crooning beautifully, Pavel nuzzles into Hikaru’s face and insists, “You feel perfect inside me, master... zhe feeling of my mate...” He sighs happily, clenching his ass. Hikaru hisses in pleasure, not expecting that. 

He humps up, unable to control it. It makes Pavel’s whole body bounce, and it makes the water jiggle and splash when he falls back down, shrieking as he’s impaled again. 

Hikaru’s fingers dig into Pavel’s naked sides, and he promptly sets into an erratic rhythm of thrusts, jerking his hips up and down and over and over, fucking Pavel wildly. He’s usually better than this. He’s usually more measured, something in control, but now he’s a frenzy of heat, and all he wants is to be deep inside Pavel all the time. 

Pavel isn’t idle. He plays party to his own fucking, and if Hikaru’s hips miss a beat, Pavel’s fill in. Even without a rhythm, he seems to know exactly what Hikaru wants, riding Hikaru like a wild horse. He won’t be bucked off. His own cock is bouncing against his chest and splashing water across the very small space between them. Hikaru loops one arm back around Pavel’s waist and lets his hips do most of the work, and he uses his free hand to pet Pavel’s hair, tugging gently on curls and caressing him. Pavel tilts for a kiss; Hikaru meets him. 

It’s steamy in the room. Hikaru’s not sure if it’s from the bath or them. He’s burning up, and they kiss and they kiss, again and again, and it feels fresh each time. Somehow, every taste is new, every touch exciting. Pavel’s a ball of exotic energy in Hikaru’s lap, practically fucking himself. His own fingers slip through Hikaru’s hair and claw at Hikaru’s back and he pants, “Hi-Hikaru, I... I...”

Hikaru knows. He’s close, too. So close. Was from the beginning. He has to let go of Pavel’s head to run down Pavel’s chest, stopping to feel each nipple and elicit breathy gasps. Then it’s down past a tight knit of short curls and onto a hard shaft, smaller and pinker than his own. As soon as he wraps his fingers around it, Pavel cries out. Hikaru’s thrusts work harder, faster to accommodate, and he pumps Pavel up and down in time, the water acting as lubricant. It’s noisy, the sound of flesh-on-flesh overshadowed by splashing water, their heavy breathing and Pavel’s erotic noises. Hikaru strokes him and Pavel clenches his perfect, vacuum-tight ass, until it’s all Hikaru can do to see straight. 

His vision blanks and he growls and it peaks in him—he goes a little crazy in the span of a second, head throbbing with too much pleasure. It’s easily the best orgasm he’s ever had, and it rips all through him. His cock throbs and releases, and he fills Pavel full of his cum, warm and rushing. Pavel’s ass is convulsing all around Hikaru’s bursting cock—Pavel’s spilling over his hand. Hikaru doesn’t make out their dual cries—all he can hear is the blood pounding in his ears. All he knows is pleasure. He leans his forehead against Pavel’s, and they’re overwhelmed together. 

They come down slowly, very slowly, both still intertwined. Pavel doesn’t climb off—he sits down—he leans on Hikaru and he sighs happily. Hikaru slides back against the hard tub, his whole body limp. 

It takes an even longer time for him to feel sane again, for the sheer insanity of all this to catch up to him. Pavel seems to sense this; he uncurls. He climbs gingerly off Hikaru’s lap with a humming sound, and he sits down at the other side of the tub, looking curiously down at his own crotch as though surprised to find himself sore. 

A few panting-filled moments later, Pavel asks, “Was I alright?”

Hikaru nearly laughs. So much better than alright. But all he can manage to say is, “Yes.”

Pavel still beams. 

This bath wasn’t any good for cleaning. Hikaru didn’t scrub off at all; if anything, he’s sweatier and smellier now. But the water is already diffused with cum, and he fumbles around himself to pull out the plug. The water starts to drain, and Hikaru mumbles sheepishly, “I only have one towel.”

Pavel tilts his head, evidently not finding this a problem. He’s still flushed, and his pupils are still dilated. His curls are cutely slicked down over his forehead, both from bathwater and sweat. 

Hikaru takes a minute and then forces himself out of the bath, simply because if he waits any longer, he might try a second round. And then a third. He should take some time between. Give Pavel some time to rest. He steps onto the mat outside the tub and grabs the blue towel on the wall, drying himself as sparingly as possible. 

When he turns around, there’s a fuzzy brown ball sitting on the edge of the tub, tail flicking happily back and forth. It looks up at Hikaru with perfectly wide, naïve little eyes, like nothing ever happened. 

For the first second, Hikaru seriously considers that maybe it didn’t—maybe he’s just gone insane. That would actually be just as plausible. 

But then, there’s no other reason a Chekov should be in his bathroom, so he finishes drying himself and takes his towel to the edge of the tub. He scoops his little pet up and carefully wipes away the water clinging to its curled fur, made easier by the fact that it’s now no larger than his hand. 

It also makes it easier to pick Pavel up and carry him back to the bedroom after, placing him on the bedspread while Hikaru searches through drawers for pajamas. He usually sleeps in loose flannel pants. He doesn’t feel like bothering with underwear. He’s painfully aware of his nakedness as he bends towards the drawer now that he knows Chekovs are entirely sentient, and Pavel might be staring at him. 

Should he offer Pavel pajamas? He doesn’t know. He tugs his own on and turns to the bed. 

And Pavel’s a human again, gracefully lying on his stomach, lying atop the sheets. He smiles lazily at Hikaru and coos, “Can I sleep like zhis?”

“With me?”

“Wizh you,” Pavel sighs. He reaches out one hand. “In your arms?”

Hikaru walks to the bed like he’s in a dream. Pavel rolls onto his back, arms outstretched. Hikaru climbs into them, smiling from head to foot. Pavel smells rosy fresh like a Rigelian begonia. Even when Hikaru pulls the computer lights into darkness, Pavel smiles like a sunflower.

Pavel stays tight in his arms and clings to him, and Hikaru’s not sure how he ever lived without that.


End file.
